


The Absent Son

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: The bathroom light is on, no one by her side. Glancing up and away, she sees a mirror of her darkest nightmares.





	The Absent Son

The rains is still falling when she wakes up, convinced she can hear a baby cry. The bathroom light is on, no one by her side. Glancing up and away, she sees a mirror of her darkest nightmares. Mulder perched on the edge of the tub, face hidden in hands, his shoulders shaking, every third cry escapes.   
"I'm sorry" he gasps, shaking syllables like salt on fresh wounds "I'm so so sorry, my son"   
She tries not to listen, the rain tunes it out. The cry of a baby, the tears of a man. Third night on the run, with nowhere to run. 

The boy looks at him with keen eyes. Across from him at a bar in a dingy diner outside of Yet Another Small Town. He chews thoughtfully each bite of pancake his mother shoves into his little mouth. Blue eyes, red unruly hair, cartoon ambulance on his overalls.   
The boy must love his pancakes, and his mom.   
He looks away. The boy keeps staring until his food is gone. 

A kids' bike on the side of the road. Abandoned in haste along other four. An improvised courtyard, hoop over garage door. Two against two, he wonders who's keeping the score.   
Scully opens the car door, throwing bags in the back seat.   
A tall, lanky boy scores, 3 points. Knicks fan. Go team.   
"We're good to go"

Home. One spare bedroom. Unfurnished, unused.   
Couch, popcorn and twilight zone. Another night shift, those come more often than ever before. A glove and a baseball sitting on the couch next to him. No playing ball inside the house. Her words. The mom. 

A dark movie theater. Big word for a place with a screen and a handful of chairs in a handful of rows. Old-school place, the way they used to be, when he was a kid, seconds or eons ago. Halfway through the movie, a bubbly giggle three rows down and to one side. Kids, which base? He doesn't want to know. Teach, warn and trust.  
He rest one hand on Scully's thigh, slides up a notch. They're too still fairly young. 

She sleeps in his bed, pulled out couch, on a case, just like the old times. He looks in the mirror, noticing the mark, property of Dana Scully. Well damn right.  
Son, hope you'll find someone whom you'll love as I love your mom.


End file.
